Page 15 of Playing His Game

“I did!” Adam said quickly, with a glance at Mo that seemed to readstop making me look bad.

Which—if he looked bad, it was his own fault. What if Mo had been allergic to cats or something, the way he was allergic to horses? Adam would’ve looked pretty stupid then.

Never mind. Mo could get his own back. He pasted on a sickly smile. “He did, Maryan, just—I didn’t realize the kittens were going to be so small and precious! I’m sure I can handle whatever they throw at us.” He squeezed Adam’s forearm and fluttered his eyelashes. “After all, I’ve got my big, strong man to protect me, right, pookie?”

Adam looked at Mo’s arm, then back to Maryan’s face like he was afraid she’d suddenly realized he was gay and hate-crime them. “Um.”

But Maryan ignored them both and shook her head. “You boys these days. You just get settled and I’ll have the first batch sent in.”

“They’re coming inbatches?” Mo hissed when the door closed behind her.

Adam folded himself onto one of the cushions on the floor. He shouldn’t be able to look up at someone and still seem judgmental. “Are you afraid ofkittens?”

With a huff, Mo sank lotus-style onto the remaining pillow. “No.” Although,shouldhe be afraid of kittens?

Before he could wonder, the door opened and Maryan returned with a small carrier. “Now, the most important thing to remember is just be gentle. We want to get them accustomed to people and used to touch and being held, but we want it to be a positive experience.”

Don’t maul the kittens, Mo thought. “Got it.”

Then Maryan opened the box, and Mo said, “Oh my God.”

He would never in his life have identified as a cat person. But the first little fluffball to stumble unsteadily into the room stole his entire heart. Sorry, fake relationship with Adam. It had been fun while it lasted—not. Mo hadn’t known he could feel this kind of tenderness toward something so orange.

Another kitten followed, this one a gray tabby with green eyes. Then a black one and an orange and white followed after.

“I’ll just leave you to it,” Maryan said, and then Mo and Adam were at the kittens’ mercy.

The kittens seemed as wary as Mo felt. He glanced sideways at Adam. “So do we just… sit here?”

“Were you not listening?” The words should have been sharp, but maybe Adam was keeping his voice calm for the kittens’ benefit. He slowly scooted toward the orange angel and offered his hand to sniff.

Mo huffed. “I’ve never held a cat, okay?”

Adam tilted his head. “Oh.” Then, telegraphing his movements, he scooped up the gray kitten in one overlarge hand.

“Mew,” said the kitten politely, but it didn’t squirm or fight or pee.

Adam cradled it in his palm and passed it to Mo. “You can hold him like this because he’s still tiny, but they’re a little unsteady, so it’s better to cup your hand a little or let them rest against your chest.”

Before Mo was really prepared, Adam deposited the kitten in his palms.

Its tiny body weighed almost nothing. Its sharp claws barely even registered on his skin.

It took an unsteady step and would have face-planted—maybe even fallen—if Mo hadn’t brought his hand close to his body so instead, it sort of headbutted his chest.

“Oh my God,” he said again, quieter. Less than a minute ago, he’d been ready to give Adam a piece of his mind for handing him the uglier cat. Now he traced a finger down its warm, downy spine and almost melted into a puddle. “People can just come here and do this? Like, whenever?”

“I mean, I’m pretty sure there’s restrictions. Kittens need to sleep.”

The orange one had wandered over to Adam and was attempting to use its claws to pull itself onto his thigh.

Mo averted his gaze before he could make any observations about said thigh.

“And they grow up pretty fast, so you don’t want just anyone doing it. What if they mess them up? Then they won’t be as adoptable and they’ll end up barn cats or something.”

The orange cat succeeded in summiting Mount Thigh.

“Being a barn cat doesn’t sound so bad,” Mo murmured, scratching under the kitten’s chin. “No one to tell you what to do all day, hm? Where to be seen or what to wear. Just you and the mice.”